Not 9 Years Old Anymore
by MandiMooShoe
Summary: PostRENT Another story about plucking a sibling for Roger out of the abyss. Just read it, I think it's kinda different...or something. Chapter 3!
1. Chapter 1

I don't own Rent or any of the other characters that I didn't make up…

First Rentfic…I've written fics for other things though, but I couldn't remember my password or my pen name so I had to get a new account. Um…I've only really read a few Rent related stories…so if something like this has been done I promise you I'm not stealing or anything. Please R+R:o)

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Mimi emerged from her apartment, anxious about returning to work. She was surprised that they were actually letting her come back after she just stopped showing up a few months ago, but hey, she has the best ass below 14th street. She laughed and walked full stride into someone.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." The person she ran into said, turning around. She thought he was kinda cute, but he was younger than her though, maybe 16 or 17. Obviously lost.

"It's ok, not your fault." she said with a smile. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for my brother Roger. Roger Davis, I think he lives here, I have the address but none of the apartments are numbered."

This was Roger's brother? He always talked about him like he was 9 years old.

"Yeah, he lives here, the apartment all the way at the top of the stairs."

"Thanks." he said with a smile picking up an ancient army duffel bag that was sitting next to him. Mimi watched him go up the stairs and then disappear. As much as she wanted to stay, she had to go, she needed money and was actually feeling good for the first time in months.

Mark looked through the fridge again, as if something new had appeared in the last 10 minutes. All of a sudden he heard a loud pounding on the door. He had the urge to yell for Roger to get it, but walked over there himself. He swung open the door and saw someone in front of him, someone who looked very familiar. He was about the same height as Mark, with longish brown messy hair.

"Mark Cohen. In the flesh. You look…exactly the same." He said walking by him into the loft.

"Drew?" He asked, finally placing him. Roger's brother. Roger's annoying little brother who never left them alone when they were in high school.

"That would be me." He said dropping his bag. "Nice place, Roger around?"

"Somewhere."

"What?" Drew asked, noticing the funny expression on Mark's face.

"Nothing, I just didn't recognize you."

"Well it has been like 7 years since you 3 took off, abandoning me in the hells of Westchester County."

7 years? Had it actually been 7 years since he, Roger and April graduated and moved here?

"So, you're what, 16 now?"

"17 as of last week." He said with a smile, seeing Roger come out of a door behind Mark.

"Drew? What the hell are you doing here?"

"I can't come and visit my brother?" He said walking over to him and giving him a hug. He pulled away and gave Roger a shove. "What the fuck, I haven't talked to you in like 4 years."

"I know." Roger said, still shocked to see his little brother standing in front of him, if he could still consider him little. "I've been writing to mom lately and stuff though."

"I haven't lived with her since I was 13, I've been living in Cleveland with dad."

"You live with dad?" Roger asked, surprised.

"Yeah, it was ok, and guys get this. As of Friday, January 6th, 1989, I, Andrew James Davis, am officially emancipated!" He said producing several folded up pieces of paper from his jacket pocket, handing them to Roger, who then handed them to Mark.

"Are you serious?" Mark asked looking at the papers.

"Hell yeah, dad signed the papers and everything. He was cool with it as long as I didn't stay at the house and mooch. So, that's why I'm here, looking for a place to stay maybe? I mean, you wouldn't want me to drop out of school and become homeless, now would you?"

"Well, maybe if you didn't go and get yourself emancipated you wouldn't have this problem."

"Hey, he's still a controlling prick, and I wasn't going back to mom's."

Mark and Roger looked at each other, and Mark just shrugged.

"Fine, you can have Benny's old room." Roger said pointing to a door in the corner.

"Sweet, I'm whipped, I've been on a bus for 8 hours, so I shall see you in the morning." Drew said enthusiastically, grabbing his bag and heading to his new room.

Suddenly Roger's beeper started going off. "Shit." Roger said grabbing it and shutting it off quickly.

"What the hell was that?" Drew asked, turning around.

"Just his beeper reminding him to…" Mark started, but was cut off by Roger. "It's just a beeper." He said quickly. Drew nodded and went into the room and shut the door. Roger quickly got his pills and swallowed them. He walked over and picked up his guitar, not looking at Mark. Mark shrugged it off and went back into the kitchen.

"Do you do drugs?" Roger asked Drew the next morning, not sure where this question had come from.

"What?"

"Do you do drugs?"

"No…not really."

"Not really?"

"Oh shut up, it's not like you're some angel. I don't shoot up heroin or anything."

"That's good." Mark said from somewhere behind him.

"Yeah, I'm not one of those junkie fucktards who's gonna catch AIDS and be dead in 2 years." Drew said with a laugh heading over to one of the cabinets in the kitchen behind Roger. Mark snapped his head around and looked right at Roger after hearing the last thing said.

"You guys don't have shit to eat." Drew remarked.

"Go buy something." Roger said, staring at Mark.

"I don't have any money."

"Here." Roger said handing him some cash he had in his pocket.

"Eight bucks?"

"Yeah, have a fun."

"Fine, later." He said heading for the door.

"Don't." Roger said quietly after he heard the door close.

"He doesn't know!" Mark yelled.

"I just, haven't had the opportunity to tell him yet."

"Why?"

"Why?" Roger said, setting his cup down. "Why! I'm his brother! His big brother! He's supposed to be able to look up to me! What's he gonna see when he finds out? Nothing special. He's just gonna see some poor, ex-junkie loser with AIDS that's never going to amount to anything!"

"Don't act like you need to protect him, you probably forgot he even existed until yesterday. He's not 9 years old anymore Roger, you have to tell him!"

Silence.

"Why didn't your mom tell him?"

More silence.

"She doesn't know either Roger? What the hell!"

"Well It's not exactly something you write on a postcard. Dear mom, all is well. April killed herself and I have AIDS. Love Roger."

"I thought you called her. That day, after April's funeral. When I took you to the doctor, I thought you called her!"

Roger sighed. He remembered that day all to well. It was five days after April died. Five days after he found her in the bathtub dead. Five days after he found the note…

Roger-

We've got AIDS.

I'm sorry.

Mark was freaking out after the funeral and wanted to take him to the doctor as soon as possible. Roger finally gave into the whining and went. He heard everything he expected to hear: "You can live for another 10 years now." "This isn't the end of your life son."

Yeah it was. At least that's what he thought then.

After that Mark left him alone in the loft to call his mom. He dialed the number twice and hung up before it even started to ring. He was scared, he was ashamed.

"I did call her. I told her April was dead, nothing else."

"Were you ever planning on telling her _why _April was dead."

"Eventually. Look, I've got things to do, I'll talk to you later." Roger said dumping the rest of his horrible coffee into the sink. He just needed to take a walk.

Mark picked up his camera and focused on Roger. He wanted to say something, but he didn't. He just filmed him silently for a few more seconds while Roger just stared at him. Roger then gave Mark and his camera the finger and headed out the door.

A few hours later Roger returned to the loft hoping to be alone, but he then saw Drew laying on his stomach, on the couch reading a magazine.

"Mark here?" He asked walking into the bathroom to get some scissors.

"Nah, some chick called and said she needed some help with her wires. Is that some weird way of telling Mark that she's horny and needs a good fucking?"

"No, that was Maureen. Her and Mark used to be pretty serious though, but now she's a lesbian."

"Really? He's that bad in bed?"

"I wouldn't know." Roger said picking up his guitar case.

"What's in the bag?" Drew asked noticing the small black bag Roger had been carrying since he came in.

"Guitar strings."

"You don't have milk, bread, or power, but you can buy new guitar strings?"

"They're important." He said sitting down in the chair next to the couch.

"So, are you like banging anyone?" Drew asked Roger after a few minutes. Roger was getting sick of these questions.

"I have a girlfriend, Mimi. She lives in the apartment on the bottom floor."

"Ah. I think I met her."

"Yeah." Roger said, not really caring. He was still trying to figure out how to open the package of guitar strings. He began thrashing at it with the scissors.

"Yep. She looked kinda skanky though, wear your rubbers man."

Roger didn't really react to that last statement.

"What ever happened to that redhead you and Mark moved here with?"

"She died. Her name was April, remember?"

"Right, that was her name. How'd she die?"

"Fuck!" Roger yelled as he jumped up and ran to the sink.

"What the hell did you do?"

"I cut my finger with those fucking scissors. Just, grab me some band-aids from the bathroom."

"How many?" Drew asked as he got up from the couch.

"The uh, whole box. And, there's some ointment in a tube in one of the drawers, get that too."

Roger's hands were shaking as he watched the blood drip into the sink. It was quickly washed down the drain by the running water. It wasn't blood any more though, it was poison. Deadly to anyone who came into contact with it.

Drew came out and set the band-aids and the ointment on the counter, then threw a washcloth at Roger.

"Now dry it up and Doctor Drewey will fix you right up, and if you behave…"

"I can do it myself." Roger snapped, cutting Drew off. Drew just walked away.

"Jesus, someone would think you were trying to kill yourself, look at the blood on these bitches!" Drew said holding up the scissors by one of the handles.

"Fuck, put those down!" Roger yelled while he squeezed the washcloth tightly around his finger, trying to stop the bleeding.

"What?"

"Dammit Drew just drop them!"

"Happy?" He asked after dropping them on the ground.

"Come over here and let me see your hands."

"Huh?"

"Let me see your fucking hands!"

He walked over and put them right in Roger's face. "Turn 'em around."

Drew did and Roger didn't see any blood.

"Go and wash them and use hot water and a lot of soap."

"What's your problem?"

"Just do it Drew!" He yelled again.

Roger turned away and heard his brother begin to wash his hands. He sighed.

"We need to talk."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hello. I know this took me forever and a day to update, but I was having trouble with this part, and I really haven't been motivated to do much of anything the past few days.

Thanks for the reviews. I'm glad people seem to like it so far. And I know I like to write a lot of dialogue, but that's what I like writing. So, yeah. Again, I own none of the characters from Rent.

Oh! Check out this site! http/elphieandglinda. It's a new Rent message board and um, it's cool and stuff!

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"What's wrong?" Drew asked sensing something, maybe fear, in Roger's voice. Roger just kept his back to him.

"Just go sit down, and don't touch anything."

Drew sat down on the couch and watched as Roger put about 8 band-aids on his finger. He then came over, picked up the scissors and scrubbed the floor with a sponge around where he had been sitting.

"What's going on Roge?" Drew asked, surprised to see Roger actually clean something.

Roger sat down next to his brother on the couch. He buried his face in his hands and took a deep breath before looking at Drew.

"I," He started. He was trying to think of some way to make what he was about to say not seem as bad, but there wasn't any way around it. "I have AIDS."

"What?" Drew asked in a shocked and childlike voice.

"You heard what I said."

"Wh…how?"

Roger sighed. "I'm not, really sure. There was…a lot going on."

"A lot going on? What are you like a fag now!" Drew yelled as he stood up, his voice going from innocent and childlike to loud and accusatory.

"No! No…I-I was in the band and there was a lot of drugs and sex. I mean, I don't even know if I got it from April or from someone else or from shooting up, I don't know." He said quickly.

"Shooting up?" He asked back in his childlike voice. "April had it too? Th-that's how she died?"

"Well, no. Not really. She uh, killed herself after she found out. She slit her wrists one night in the bathroom."

"This bathroom?" He asked, a little freaked out. Roger nodded.

"So…when was this?" Drew asked, trying to process everything he'd just heard in the last minute.

"About a year and a half ago."

"You've known for a year and a half and you didn't tell me?"

"I dunno, I didn't know how." Roger said standing up, noticing Drew backing away from him.

"Fuck you Roger get away from me!"

"What?"

"Get away from me and don't touch me."

Roger just looked at Drew in disbelief. He couldn't quite tell what he was thinking. Was he scared? Maybe. Scared of what? Scared of Roger dying? No. Scared of catching AIDS by just touching him?

Anger? Was he just mad at Roger for not telling him before now? Whatever the case, Drew had walked off and went into his room during Roger's prolonged silence.

Roger wanted to hit something, or someone. He stopped himself and decided that he just needed to be with Mimi right now, he hadn't talked to her since yesterday, which was a long time.

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"Mimi?" Roger yelled into her apartment as he let himself in.

"What?" She answered from her bedroom.

"Um, I'm here."

"I see that." She said with a smile coming out of her room. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to see you." He said embracing her and giving her a kiss. "How was work?"

"It was fine."

"You know I don't like you working there."

Mimi rolled her eyes and broke away from him. "I met your brother."

"He told me." Roger said sitting down on Mimi's couch.

"Did you know he was coming?"

"No, and I felt the urge to wring his fucking neck when I saw him."

"What?" Mimi asked half laughing.

"Nothing. I haven't really talked tom him in like 4 years, and even that was just a few times on the phone. He didn't know _anything_."

Mimi sat down next to him knowing exactly what he meant by _anything_. "So you told him?"

Roger nodded. "He didn't take it that well."

"How would you expect him to take it?"  
"I don't know, I mean we were never that close."

"He's still your brother."

"I treated him like shit his whole life."

"Why?"

"Because he's the cause of all my grief."

Mimi just stared as him confused.

"I've always blamed him for everything bad in my life."

"Why?"

Roger just shook his head. "Well, he's the result of one of my mom's many affairs. Come on, we look nothing alike."

"You have the same eyes."

"He was born almost 2 months early." Roger said, acting like he hadn't heard Mimi. "My dad didn't have a job and we didn't have insurance. It was expensive, he was in the hospital for 3 months. My mom was up there the whole time. I always stayed home with my dad who would just drink and complain about what a whore my mom was, and how it was all her fault that we were in this mess. A few months later we had to move. I don't know if they sold the house or the bank took it away, but we ended up moving into this small shitty apartment where my parents would just fight constantly. Then when I was 10 the split up and my dad moved to Cleveland."

"You can't blame your parents breaking up on him."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not his fault."

Deep down Roger knew Mimi was right, but he always found it easier to blame everything on one person.

"I said some really self-righteous bullshit earlier to Mark about why I didn't tell him, and I've come to the conclusion that I didn't tell him because I just don't like talking to him. "

It's not that he hated his brother, it was just…it was a weird emotion and a weird relationship. Roger would tell him that he was stupid and that he hated him, yet he still tried to follow him where ever he went. He liked listening to Roger play his guitar and would say that he wanted to be just like Roger when he grew up. Alright, so maybe some of what he said to Mark earlier was true.

"After my parents split my mom had this slew of one night stands and random boyfriends. Real pillars of the community too. Then we moved to Scarsdale when I was 14 to live with my grandparents, who lived next door to the Cohen's. Mark and I became friends and stuff, and Drew just followed me constantly. He would ask all of these questions and I would just yell at him and tell him to stay the fuck away from me. Then you know, I graduated and moved out and basically forgot about him. And this is why I've never understood why he likes me so much."

"Because you're his big brother."

"Yeah I know, and now I feel like shit.

"Then go talk to him."

"No, not tonight. I want to be with you tonight." Roger said pulling her in for another kiss.

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Drew sat up against the wall in his room staring at a picture. He had been staring at it now for a long time, though his vision was now blurred by tears. He heard the door to the open and then slam. He turned and looked out his door which was open a crack. He hoped it was Roger. No, he hoped it wasn't Roger! He was still mad.

It was Mark.

Drew watched him go into the kitchen and look at the mess of band-aid wrappers. "I see you Drew." He said.

Shit. Drew stood up and wiped his eyes and walked out of his room, still absently clutching the picture.

"What happened?" Mark asked as he picked up all of the papers.

"Roger cut himself."

"On purpose?" He asked turning around.

Drew just stared at him coldly.

"He told you didn't he?"

Drew nodded and then closed his eyes, trying to stop the tears from starting again. The tears that had been flowing since he heard Roger storm out over an hour ago.

Mark could tell that he had been crying, and he could tell that he was no the verge of tears again. He wasn't sure what to say, he was never good at comforting people. He looked at him for a second and then turned back around to throw the wrappers into the garbage.

"What's that in your hand?"

"What? Oh." Drew said noticing the picture. "Just a picture. I think it's the only picture of Roger and I where we're both genuinely happy." He said handing the picture to Mark. "It was his 16th birthday, it was the year he got the Fender, the one he still has."

Mark looked at the picture. Drew was sitting on Roger's lap, he looked maybe 7 or 8. They were both holding onto the guitar and Roger was trying to show Drew how to hold it and how to play it. They were both smiling.

"He might of just been happy about getting the guitar, and I was just happy that he acknowledged my existence."

Mark smiled and handed the picture back to him. He didn't know Drew very well at all. He just remembered Roger constantly screaming at him for no reason. He always thought Roger overreacted about stuff, but he never said anything. It always amazed Mark how well Drew took it and how he would always come back after a few minutes, just to be yelled at again.

"So, is it bad?" Drew asked.

"What?"

"I mean…is he like…gonna be dead in a year?"

"No," Mark said shaking his head. "He's good about taking his medicine and everything."

"That doesn't mean anything. God! I feel like such an ass! I said such stupid shit to him! Stupid shit that I didn't mean."

"I…wouldn't worry about it." Mark said, still unsure about what to say to him.

"How am I not supposed to worry about it? My brother is going to die and I had to go and make things worse by opening my mouth. And what the hell is this about him shooting up heroin?"

"What about it?"

"Does he still do it?"

"No. He stopped after he found out he was sick."

"You didn't try to stop him before that?"

"Yes I tried, he didn't listen to me! And he was scary when he was high I didn't need him kicking my ass! I didn't think it was any of my business then. Where are you going?" Mark asked as Drew turned around and walked away from him.

"Bed." He said before slamming his door.

Mark sighed and looked around the loft. He always hated himself for not doing something about the drugs. He would just look the other way and pretended none of it was going on. Mark grabbed his camera and retreated into his room to look at some new footage that he got earlier.

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Wheeeeeeeeee, so there it is! Please R+R!


	3. Chapter 3

Howdy! So, people are reading this? Amazing.

I'm sorry if this chapter sucks, it's more of a filler chapter. There are only 2 more chapters left after this one, and they're both half written now, which is good because I start school soon and would never finish it.

Oh! I changed 2 small things in the first 2 chapters. First, the year that it takes place in. It was supposed to be 1989 the whole time, not 1987 like I originally wrote, but I just forgot to change it. And, in the last chapter I said Drew was 5 when Roger was 16, when he's supposed to be 8...that was just major complete brain fart by me. No idea why I wrote 5, so that's changed as well.

Um…I own nothing…I like reviews…read on!

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Drew sat in the window in the loft and watched Mark, Maureen, Joanne and Collins mindlessly bicker over something. They had been there for a few hours, and Drew even talked to them for a little while.

He found out from Maureen that Mark was actually quite amazing in bed, but she thought Joanne's technique was much better…way more information that he needed. Collins tried to explain some weird philosophical theory to him, and then he told the story of running naked through the Parthenon. Drew was still unsure what exactly the Parthenon was, but didn't ask for fear of sounding like a dumbass.

Eventually Drew retreated back to the window sill where he had been sitting when they got there.

He sat and watched them and wondered to himself, how the hell can these people be so happy?

Roger was sick. Collins was sick. Mimi was sick. Angel died little more than 2 months ago.

Angel. Angel was their friend. He was Collins' boyfriend…girlfriend…whatever. He was dead, and he died from the same thing that was eventually going to kill Roger…and Mimi and Collins. Why are they happy?

Suddenly Drew needed to take a walk, so he left. He stopped in front of Mimi's door though. Roger was in there. Should he knock? He hadn't talked to Roger since Saturday, and now it was Monday. Actually, it was Tuesday, and it had been Tuesday for a few hours now. They were probably asleep, he shouldn't knock.

He continued staring at the door though. Both of the people on the other side were going to be dead in a few years. It was going to be a long, drawn out painful death to. They weren't going to go quietly in their sleep, they were going to go in a hospital. The last part of both of their lives were going to be spent with a million tubes sticking out of them. How could they stand it? How could they not go crazy?

Drew sighed and stepped out into the cold January night. He just started walking. He wasn't sure where he was going, and he didn't really want to go anywhere. He just wanted to walk.

Roger was going to be 25 in March, would he make it to 30? Would he make it to 27? 26 even?

He didn't know Roger very well anymore, he really never did, but he didn't want him to die. Not now, not ever.

Ok, so everyone dies, but Roger was _dying_.

Drew leaned up against a building and slid down to the ground. There were a few people around, but it was pretty quiet. He lit a cigarette, took a drag and blew the smoke out in front of him. God he needed that. Instead of buying food with the 8 bucks from Roger he bought a pack of cigarettes and pocketed the rest.

"Hey." A woman said coming up to him.

"Hey yourself." He said bringing the cigarette back up to his lips.

"Haven't seen you around here before."

"Nope, you haven't"

"You're kinda cute, anything I can do for you?"

"What?" He asked getting a better look at her. Hooker.

"Anything at all."

"Nah, I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Fuck off, I'm not in the mood."

"You don't have to be so _rude_ about it." She said, sounding disgusted. "Can I have a cigarette at least?"

"Yeah." Drew said, annoyed. He grabbed one from his pocket and handed it to her, hoping she'd leave him alone.

"Thanks." She said while lighting it and walking away.

Drew finished his cigarette and watched her. She walked up and down the sidewalk across the street from him for a few minutes, before she was whisked away in a black Mercedes.

He leaned up against the wall behind him and shut his eyes.

-----

Roger slowly opened the door to the loft hoping everyone was asleep. Shit. He saw Mark sitting on the couch busily scribbling something down on a yellow legal pad.

"What are you doing up?" Roger asked in a low voice as he entered the loft.

"Sudden burst of inspiration." Mark said as he stopped writing and looked up at Roger. "And what are you doing up?"

"Nothing. Is Drew asleep?"

"He's not here." Mark said going back to his writing.

"Where the hell is he?"

"No idea, he said he was going for a walk."

"At 4:40 in the morning?"

"It was more like 2. Mo, Joanne and Collins were here, you should of come up…what?"

"You let him go?"

"Did you want me to tell him no? He's 17."

"There could be like, rapists and murderers and shit out there."

"I think he can take care of himself. Why are you here? Are you done pouting?"

"I'm just getting some clothes and my pills, I've been wearing the same thing since Saturday." Roger said heading into his room. Mark set down the legal pad and followed him.

"Why are you avoiding him?"

"I'm _not_ avoiding him." Roger said as he grabbed some clothes off of his floor.

"Yes you are! And, he's more than a little freaked out by the whole situation, I think you should talk to him."

"What's there to talk about?"

"Roger."

"Mark." He said mockingly as he pushed by him and into the bathroom to get his pills.

"Mimi told me what you said."

"When did you talk to her?" He asked from the bathroom.

"Sunday morning. While you were sleeping she came up here."

Roger sighed and looked at himself in the mirror. "It's none of your business Mark, I'll talk to him in a few days, alright?"

"What's your problem?" Mark asked. Roger came out of the bathroom and headed for the door.

"I don't have a problem." He said stopping in front of the door. "Just, leave it alone, ok? Go to sleep, it'll be light soon. And, if anything happens to my brother I'm going to kick your ass." He said before turning his back to Mark and disappearing down the hall.

Roger was a hard person to figure out. One minute he would just seem annoyed and pissed off at the entire world, and then he would just turn into a scared, little boy.

Mark couldn't figure out what the hell had been going on in Roger's head for the past few days. At first he thought he might of just been scared to tell Drew. Then, after talking to Mimi, he thought that maybe he didn't tell him as a way of punishing him, or something. Whatever.

Mark looked down at his watch, 4:51 AM. Where the hell was Drew? Ok, so it probably wasn't the smartest thing to let him go for a walk at 2 in the morning in a city he knows nothing about. Oh well.

He sat back down and picked up his paper and pen, eager to get this idea down before he decided that he hated it.


End file.
